Tag: gothic
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Are these earplugs ghost child proof?
Sock drawers stocking more rocks than Dorset Move like a boxer if the task’s enforcement Hot as red dot topped faucets Pinky out snout up drinking tea with saucers My worries are an aborted child Won’t arrive, soon or anytime. In the wild of night hear loud crying From down the hall, something calling Pitter…
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Going home on the last unretired 75, stinking of petrol
Buried her slash-tasselled coat like old Saxon groats When an owner of oxgangs hears of Vikings along his coast. The stoven ground yawning like their opened, bloodied throats; The cold ground the only awning for the slaughtered pigs. Mere mouse a tawny sought. Whole litter and it’s my pick. For her lily-pallored ghost A plot,…
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“opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand”
Body fresh as a Brennan’s loaf, not yet so yellow though. Burnt off my prints ages ago, Wore driving gloves for extra safety, blurry nights of excess and satiety. I’ve killed them in droves, you know (which you don’t, because I’m a pro) Shoved into holes Full fleshed some, others ash But mostly unindexed bones.…
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Div-eyed and Conker
Unloading the full unholy capacity, One final sign tap, for anyone asking: No talking to the driver while the vehicle is in action. Terrifying sleepstealing cries, wolfrhapsodies, Viking raptures. Anpiels writhing at the fiery revelation from the unveiled cyphers. A trough holding a thousand pairs of melted eyes. Climbing fires like hellish ivy Wreathing high…
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An vision I had of the end of humanity, which stole my appetite
In fitful sleep and frightening waking dreams Visions of children screaming Crowds streaming through fissures in palisades King ears bent to hear what blatant schemers say Green given to grey, fields unto graves Around healing houses lofty railings raised, barring the saved Only curs and beaten slaves live unchanged in this changing age The wheel’s…
Alchemisland 